


Friends Protect People

by gregknowshisshit



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Caring John, Caring Lestrade, Crying Sherlock, Drug Use, Drug Withdrawal, Gen, Hearing Voices, John is a Saint, John is a good doctor, Lestrade is a saint, Paternal Lestrade, Poor Sherlock, Scared Sherlock, Seizures, Self-Harm, Sherlock Is Not Okay, Sick Sherlock, Suicidal Sherlock, Suicidal Thoughts, Vomiting, Vulnerable Sherlock
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-26
Updated: 2016-09-18
Packaged: 2018-07-26 23:59:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7595428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gregknowshisshit/pseuds/gregknowshisshit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based off a shot of Lestrade from the S4 teaser trailer.</p><p>When everything else in Sherlock's life appears to turn against him, it's only right that his mind joins in on the action.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Please read the tags if you are likely to be triggered! I am aware that the ending is awful but please forgive, this is my first post after all! Pleeeeeease please please read and review to let me know what you thought, how I can improve, and what to write next! Thank you so much!

'Sherlock... Sherlock look at me... Just slow down, hear me out...' Greg spoke carefully, putting his hand out towards the younger boy who had John's gun pointed towards his own head, safety off and finger lingering threateningly over the trigger.

'No.. You all just lie to me.. You all wished I was dead you said so.. You all wanted that jump to be real.. You said so I heard you..' Sherlock spat at the elder detective, keeping the gun aimed towards himself.

'When did you hear that Sherlock? Because I haven't said it.. And I'm sure John hasn't, or Mary, or Mrs Hudson, or Molly.. We all love having you back around.. So I don't know where you've heard it..' 

'You said it.. I heard you, you told me.. You were all here.. You were here and you told me... Why are you lying?!' Sherlock cried hysterically, tears cascading down his face.

'I'm not, Sherlock... I think.. I think we need to get you some help.. We can take you somewhere safe and they can stop you hearing those horrible things.. Just please, Sherlock, give me the gun..' Lestrade said in the most gentle voice he could muster, holding his open hand out towards Sherlock.

'You're not taking me anywhere! Why are you lying to me? Do you think I'm stupid? Just because I ODed once you suddenly care?! Well I don't! I don't care about any of you!' Sherlock screamed, backing away from Lestrade.

The older man didn't know how to reply, and so instead he stood there powerless and silent, never moving his hand from its outstretched position.

'Shut up, shut up, shut up!!' Sherlock cried suddenly, and Lestrade frowned.

'Nobody said anything, Sherlock.. I'm the only one here.. You can see me, you know I haven't said anything.. You just need help, Sherlock..' 

'You can't help me! Nobody wants to help me!! I'm a freak! Freak.. I'm a freak.. You heard them.. They all say it.. Sherlock the freak.. Nobody wants me here, they want me dead.. Please.. Please!' Sherlock cried, his hands beginning to shake where he held the gun up against his temple.

'I think we can make it stop Sherlock.. I think that the voices can go away.. Because I know that they're not real.. And so does everybody else.. And we all know that we can make them go away.. Just like you know that you don't really want to do this.. Just give me the gun and we can fix all of this.. I promise you, Sherlock.. You know that I won't let the voices carry on.. Just give me the gun...' Greg spoke soothingly to Sherlock, taking a tentative few steps towards the trembling boy and sighing heavily in relief as the heavy gun was dropped into his hand.

'There we go.. Good lad.. It's okay now I promise..' 

'I-I'm scared.. Th-They scare me.. Th-They say ho-horrible things... Pl-Please make them stop...' Sherlock cried into the older man's collar, tears falling thick and fast and his breath catching as he broke down against the man.

'We're gonna get you help.. I promise you... I'm going to call John.. And Mycroft.. And we're going to make them stop, okay? I promise you..' Greg replied, holding Sherlock's thin frame tightly.

He felt a slight nod of Sherlock's head against his chest and so sent a text to John telling him to get to Baker Street as soon as possible, and then just continued to sit in silence with Sherlock in his arms, running a hand up and down the boys arm.

It wasn't until twenty minutes later that he heard a call of 'Greg?' from the hallway, and Sherlock tensed up in his arms again.

'They're here.. He's... They're going to say it again.. You promised me you'd stop them.. You promised!' He screamed, fighting to get out of Greg's iron-like grip.

'Sherlock.. It's just John.. He's not going to hurt you, or say anything horrible, okay? I promise you that.. I wouldn't let him hurt you...' 

'Greg? What's going on..' John's voice sounded from the doorway, sounding lost.

'Something's wrong... I don't know what.. But he needs help, he needs you to talk to him..' Greg answered, still attempting to hold Sherlock still in his arms as the man writhed and kicked.

'Sherlock? What's happened mate?...' John asked softly, tentatively taking a few steps towards the still-fighting man in Greg's arms.

'D-Don't.. D-Don't hurt me.. I-I tried.. I-I tried but h-he stopped me...' Sherlock mumbled shakily, his fighting ceasing as he instead began to shake and tears tumbled down his cheeks.

'Why would I hurt you Sherlock? I'm your best friend.. I'm not going to hurt you.. And what do you mean you tried? Tried to do what? I don't understand, Sherlock..' John responded with a slight frown.

'Why are you all lying to me?! You know what I'm talking about! I heard you! I heard all of you!! You all say it all the time!!' Sherlock cried loudly, harshly pushing himself away from Greg and backing into the corner of the room.

'Sherlock.. You need to calm down.. Tell me what we've been saying that has upset you, and then we can stop.. Right? Just tell me so it can be over..' John advised, speaking in a tone that he now referred to as his "doctor voice". 

'You know!!' Sherlock screamed in hysterics.

'No I don't.. I don't know, Sherlock, but if you tell me then we can fix it.. Together.. Okay?' John soothed.

'Freak.. Freak.. Kill yourself.. You were better dead.. Nobody wants you here.. Hate you.. Psychopath.. Die.. Freak.. Hate.. Hate.. Make it stop.. They're starting again.. Make it stop.. Please.. Please make it stop..' Sherlock sobbed, putting his hands to his head and pulling at his hair, digging sharp nails into his head.

'Oh Sherlock..' John sighed, sharing a worried look with Greg as the youngest man in the room turned and started to hit his head against the hard wall. John quickly rushed forwards and placed his hand between Sherlock's head and the wall.

'No, no.. Don't do that.. We're going to make it stop.. I promise..' He assured the younger man, slowly leading him away and towards the sofa. 

Just before they reached the couch, Sherlock's legs went from underneath him as he passed out from exhaustion, and John and Greg were left sat on either side of him, knowing that things were only going to get worse when the consulting detective woke up.


	2. Waking to Withdrawal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock wakes up and we find out just what is affecting him so much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not too happy with this one, but please read and review, and also leave requests or ideas for the next chapters and where this story could go! I have too many ideas :(
> 
> I'm also rubbish at titles and endings, forgive me!

Lestrade had been sat by Sherlock's bedside with John for 46 hours before the youngest man's eyes finally fluttered awake.

The boy's entire body was trembling and his eyes searched around the room desperately as he began making terrified keening noises from the back of his throat. 

'Sherlock? Sherlock can you hear me?' 

'Dad?' Sherlock asked weakly.

'No love.. It's Greg and John...' Lestrade answered gently, running a hand through the sweaty hair of the consulting detective.

'D-Dad I'm sc-cared..' Sherlock choked out, clutching desperately at Lestrade's hand with his own.

'Ssh.. There's no need to be scared... You're safe and we're here..' 

'Ev-Everybody hates me... Th-They're mean to me, dad, I don't like it!' The raven-haired boy sobbed weakly.

'Nobody hates you, we're here to keep you safe, we can stop people being mean..' Lestrade attempted to soothe, only being met by another small sob from Sherlock.

'N-Need the bathroom, dad..' Sherlock suddenly piped up, a glint of worry in his eyes as he sat up on the bed.

'Okay, take it slow, it's okay.. John can you get his other arm?' 

'N-No! No-Now dad!!' Sherlock cut in, fighting with Lestrade to get up off the bed.

'Be careful Sherlock, you'll hurt yourself.. Now let's just slow do-' John started, stopping Sherlock in his tracks as he attempted to rush to the bathroom on trembling legs, but Sherlock cut him off with a whimper, his eyes growing wide as he slowly sunk to the floor.

'Sherlock?! Sherlock wha-' John started to panic before Sherlock's arms wrapped tightly around his stomach, and Greg and John could smell what had happened.

'-Oh. Okay it's fine.. Just get this bout over with and then we can move you to the bathroom and get you cleaned up..' John advised, while Greg crouched beside Sherlock and rubbed the man's back.

'I-I'm sorry! I tr-ried!' The young consulting detective cried out as he sat holding Greg's hand tightly, his face blushing an alarming shade of pink.

'We know you did, kiddo.. We just weren't fast enough this time.. We'll get you sorted though and everything will be fine, it's not your fault..' Greg replied, struggling to speak over the ear-piercing volumes of Sherlock's cries.

When they guessed that he was finished, John and Greg hauled Sherlock up from the floor and all but dragged him to the bathroom, ignoring the stain that remained on the bedroom carpet.

'Okay.. Let's get you cleaned up...' Greg smiled softly beginning to unbutton Sherlock's shirt while John ran a shallow bath. He only managed to get three buttons down before Sherlock suddenly flinched away and looked up at the man desperately.

'Don't.. D-Don't be mad... Pl-Please don't be mad..' He begged shakily, a new round of tears sprung to his eyes and toppled down his cheeks.

'Hey, hey, it's okay... Please don't cry, love.. You're safe and I'm not going to be mad... Just let me help you, okay?' Greg spoke gently, managing to gain a small nod from Sherlock before he continued slowly undressing the boy.

It was when he removed Sherlock's shirt completely that he found himself freezing, eyes locked on the forearms of the young detective. There were several needle marks scattered around the crook of his elbow, however what concerned Greg the most was the lines and lines of cuts and scratches that now littered the pale arms. 

He didn't realise that he had been staring until Sherlock burst into sobs again and pushed him away, desperately trying to cover his arms.

'John? John.. I think.. Maybe we need to talk outside..' Greg suggested, staring at John in a way that made it clear that there was no choice in the matter, before the two left the room together, shutting the door behind them. 

'Jesus, John.. It's worse than I thought... He must've slipped when we've not been around... He's covered in track marks..' 

'Shit.. Shit! How the hell has Mycroft not picked up on this?! I told him to tell me if there was a danger night so I could be here...' John whispered worriedly, cursing at himself.

'I don't know John but that's not it... He's got cuts. A lot of them. I think maybe things have been getting to him more than we all assumed.. There's no question, they're clearly self inflicted. We need to call Mycroft.. In all of the years I've known him, all of the things I've seen him go through, I've never seen him turn to that...' Greg explained slowly, gaining a hurt look from John as the man realised just how alone Sherlock had been feeling. 

'At least we have an explanation for the diarrhoea now... And the paranoia.. He'll be going through withdrawal now that he's been off it for 2 days. Can you call Mycroft while I get him into the bath? If he's sick or needs the toilet again, I know how to deal with it.. I can probably clean his cuts out as well...' John said after a few moments, allowing himself to behave as Sherlock's doctor again, and Greg simply nodded, patting the man on the shoulder before going to call the elder holmes.

John reentered the bathroom to find a pale looking Sherlock curled in a trembling, naked heap atop of the toilet.

'Let's get you in the bath, mate.. It should be a perfect temperature. Will you let me help you?' John asked softly, receiving a slow, weak nod from Sherlock in return. They managed to work together and Sherlock was settled into the water in just a few minutes, his whole body relaxing slightly as he settled into the tub.

'I'm s-sorry Jo-John...' Sherlock whispered shakily after a few minutes of silence.

'What? Don't be sorry, Sherlock.. If anyone's sorry it should be me.. I didn't even think to check up on you, I just kind of assumed you'd be kept up with cases and getting on Mrs Hudson's nerves..' John smiled weakly, reaching out and running a hand through the sweat-soaked hair of his best friend.

'I-I didn't know what to do.. I-I didn't know if.. I-If you and Greg hated me...' Sherlock stuttered, causing John to stop his soothing actions and instead look at the younger man sympathetically. 

'Sherlock.. We could never hate you. We love you so much, we just wish we'd been here for you when you needed us the most.. You can always call one of us, okay? No matter what is going on, one of us will be around and we'll come and help you, okay?' John assured him, being met by a nod from Sherlock.

'John.. I-I'm gonna be sick...' The boy stuttered a few moments later, gagging over the side of the bath while John quickly grabbed a bucket. Sherlock vomited into it loudly, his whole body shaking under John's hand as the man rubbed his back.

'It's okay.. Ssh, it's alright.. We're going to get you through this, yeah?' 

'I-I can't d-do it, John! I-It hurts!!' Sherlock sobbed between gags as he all but collapsed against the side of the tub, beginning to cry again.

'Sherlock... It's okay... Sherlock stay with me..' John said quickly as Sherlock's eyes slowly rolled back into his head. 

John cursed loudly as Sherlock's limbs began to twitch and jerk uncontrollably, splashing water out of the bath tub and over the floor and John.

'Shit.. Shit! Greg! Greg get the fuck in here!!' He called frantically, pulling at the plug to rid the bath of water as Sherlock came scarily close to slipping under the water. 

Greg came sprinting in, cursing and dropping his phone as he clapped eyes on the flailing unconscious man in the bath.

'Get over here now! I need you to time it, if we hit 4 minutes call an ambulance, okay?!' John ordered as he pushed his hand under Sherlock's head, shielding him from the hard surface of linoleum. 

They sat in a tense silence for the next couple of minutes, only the loud gasping, choking sound that Sherlock was emitting filling the room until it finally faded out and he went still in the bath.

'Okay.. Okay, Sherlock? Sherlock, can you hear me? I know it might be hard to speak but if you can hear me just give my hand a little squeeze...' John spoke softly, succeeding in his method as he felt the younger man squeeze his hand loosely.

'Good lad... We're gonna get you out of the bath and into bed, okay?' John offered, however the only answer he got came in the form of Sherlock vomiting over himself and John's hand.

'Okay.. Sorry mate, I'm gonna take that as a yes...' John smiled softly as he wiped the mess away and managed to pull Sherlock into a sitting position. 

Over the next few minutes, John and Greg were able to dry Sherlock off and get him into his bed, covered in a couple of extra blankets as he was still trembling slightly.

'You're nearly through the worst of it now... Everything's gonna be alright, son..' Greg soothed as they sat on the bed keeping the youngest man calm.

'Stay?' Sherlock managed to mumble sleepily as he looked up at his two friends, who both nodded as his eyes finally flickered to closed and he fell into a peaceful sleep.


End file.
